The woman awoke as he took down the tent over her head, and watched his preparations in a sullen silence.
“Haven’t you got a tongue this morning?” asked Stonor.
She merely glowered at him.
However, by and by, when she saw everything being packed in the canoe, she suddenly found her tongue. “Aren’t you going to feed me?” she demanded.
“No time now,” he answered teasingly.
Her face turned dark with rage. “You hangman!” she muttered savagely. “You’ve got a hangman’s face all right! Anybody would know what you are without your livery!”
Stonor laughed. “Dear! Dear! We are in a pleasant humour this morning! You believe in the golden rule, don’t you?—for others!”
When he was ready to start he regarded her grimly. He saw no recourse but to take her with him, thus quadrupling his difficulties. He did consider leaving her behind on the chance of returning later, but he could not tell what hazards the day might have for him. He might be prevented from returning, and murderess though she were, she was human, and he could not bring himself to leave her helpless in the bush. She stolidly watched the struggle going on in him.
He gave in to his humanitarian instincts with a sigh. As a final precaution he gagged her securely with a handkerchief. He wished to take no chances of her raising an alarm as they approached Imbrie’s camp. He then picked her up and laid her in the canoe. She rolled the light craft from side to side.
“If you overturn us you’ll drown like a stone,” said Stonor, grinning. “That would help solve my difficulties.”